Faces, at first very large, by and by adjusted themselves in a
proper perspective and became quite recognizable and familiar.
There was Aunt Jane's, very tearful, and Miss Higglesby-Browne's,
very glum, and the Honorable Cuthbert's, very anxious and a little
dazed, and Cookie's, very, very black. The face of Dugald Shaw I
did not see, for the quite intelligible reason that I was lying
with my head upon his shoulder.
As soon as I realized this I sat up suddenly, while every one
exclaimed at once, "There, she's quite all right--see how her color
is coming back!"
People kept Aunt Jane from flinging herself upon me and soothed her
into calm while I found out what had happened. The penknife that I
had lost in my struggle with Captain Magnus had fallen at the
Scotchman's feet. Wrenching himself free of his all but severed
bonds he had seized the knife, slashed through the rope that held
him to the tree, and flung himself on Captain Magnus. It was a
brief struggle--a fist neatly planted on the ruffian's jaw had
ended it, and the captain, half dazed from his potations, went down
limply.
Meanwhile Cookie had appeared upon the scene flourishing a kitchen
knife, though intending it for no more bloody purpose than the
setting free of Cuthbert Vane. Throughout the fray Chris slumbered
undisturbed, and he and the unconscious Magnus were now reposing
side by side, until they should awake to find themselves neatly
trussed up with Cookie's clothes-lines.
Pages:
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229